Angel of Death
by heroesandthieves
Summary: What Sylar was thinking, and why the end of 3x11 happened. Sylar/Elle, Sylar's POV. Oneshot. Complete.


Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes, or Sylar, or Gabriel, or whatever his name happens to be at the moment. If I did, well, this oneshot would not have been written because certain events would not have occurred.

**Angel of Death**

When Elle came into his life, it was like seeing the sun for the very first time. When she saved his life, it was like getting a fresh start. A second chance. Those few days they spent together were the sweetest and clearest of his existence. Everything before and after was gray dullness and blurred darkness. She was the only person who thought he was good enough, who thought he was special just the way he was. He needed her like he had taught himself never to need anyone. He trusted her perfectly.

And she let him down. He thought she was sent to save him, his beautiful angel with a broken watch. But she was false hope, false sunshine. And all she left behind was darkness. She was the catalyst that pushed him back over the edge, back to everything he thought she was going to save him from.

The hunger was too much for him to fight alone. It took him over almost completely. The Gabriel side of him came close to disappearing altogether. Gabriel craved love. Sylar only craved power. He couldn't have the first thing, but at least he could take the second for himself. Both sides of him wanted to be special. Both sides were satisfied when he took power. The hunger was all he felt for a long time. It kept him going when he lost his abilities. But it didn't let him feel. When he was healed by the cheerleader's blood, he felt closer to happy than he had in a long time. He hadn't felt anything in so long. Not since Elle.

But then a kind of feeling did come into his life, and it was different, but it was real. He found out that Angela was his mother. She didn't want to change him, either side of him. She let him be exactly what he was. The Gabriel side of him soaked this up and the Sylar side sated some of his long-suppressed hunger with more powers.

But the Gabriel side grew stronger. He wanted to help his mother and help Peter. He tried to hold back the hunger, and succeeded for a little while.

And then Elle came into his life again. Only this time, she was the assignment. He was supposed to fix her, play watchmaker one more time. And he thought he had fixed her, thought that he had found a way to get power without hurting anyone. He thought the ability itself would be enough to sate his hunger. When the eclipse came, when their powers disappeared and his head was clear again, he wanted a life with Elle. The hunger was gone, he was free, and she was all he could think of. His head wasn't filled with cotton and ice anymore, it was filled only with her, and all he was unsure of anymore was why he had waited so long to tell her how he felt. He was going to give her everything.

And then he did give everything. He shut her in the elevator and sent it away because she had to be safe. Whatever happened to him, she had to be all right. Because a world without her fair hair and silvery voice and lithe little form and lovely movements wouldn't be any kind of a world at all. This world could do without his particular essence, but not hers. So he faced Bennet alone. And he died, his life's blood spilt on the concrete storeroom floor, for her. He died for her willingly, because he believed that she was worth it, that she really was his angel this time.

But she wasn't his angel. And she couldn't change anything. It was the eclipse that changed things, first with its coming, then with its going. It changed everything. The same open sunlight that brought back his powers and healed him also brought back that hunger with accursed force. The empathy, the peaceful way of taking power, just wasn't the same. And he knew it wasn't just the abilities that he craved. It wasn't just seeing the way things work. It was the rush of sheer _power_ he felt at seeing blood streaming from his signature cut across the head. The charge of power at feeling their life draining at his hand. He wanted to feel it again. No other feeling mattered.

But he didn't hurt her. Then. The craving made him teeter dangerously close to it, but something held him back. Maybe it was love. Maybe it wasn't. But then it didn't matter anymore, whatever it was that he had thought he felt for her, because he found out that she had been lying to him. He had trusted her, and she had let him down. She was just one more person who had manipulated him into doing what she wanted. He hated it that he had been fooled again. The hunger ticking in his ears combined with the rush of hate and it was all too much. He had to make it all stop. He had to silence her forever, before she could melt him with those eyes or tempt him with her sweetly twisted words. Everything would be simpler with her gone. There would be no more guilt or feeling, not with his conscience dead. This was the way it had to be.

Because she was supposed to be his angel and all she brought him was death. Because it was her turn to die for him. Because he didn't get another chance, so neither does she.

He's all out of chances.


End file.
